Khouria...

Sometimes it seems, at least on cursory review that some of the church fathers and early writers saw marriage as, at best, a kind of condescension to human weakness, a way to at least regulate a base and primal urge.

I suppose some of it may be that large numbers of those who could write in those days were, if not monastic in their orientation, monastics themselves and being monastic would see the path they had chosen as a better one, like St. Paul. Some also saw the promiscuity in the larger culture (yes the baby boomers didn't invent "gettin it on") and in themselves and reacted with over statement.

Yet the Scripture and and the Tradition are very clear, marriage is honorable, full of grace, and a holy path for those men and women who prayerfully choose it. And I sense that every day because I have an extraordinary khouria (Arabic for priest's wife) and on the occasion of this day, her birthday, I'm reminded again of how much I have received despite my unworthiness.

It's not easy to be the wife of a priest. The expectations, rightly or wrongly, can be high. The schedules sometimes get messed up. And their are times, like today, of absence, when the duties of the calling separate a priest and his family and one must make do as best as possible. Some parishes even still expect a "twofer" that is they get two people full time serving the church for one salary. Oh, by the way, the job description keeps changing too, sometimes every week.

As we've traveled from place to place and followed the path that God has set for us my wife has been the single person who has been support, strength,helpful critic, and the foundation of our life together. Nothing that I have done or will do could happen without her and if there are rewards for something I've done that somehow escapes the refiners fire it will be at least half hers and maybe all.

Far from a condescension to weakness we are strong together in a way that we could not be alone and together we have endured much and yet have also known a kind of joy that comes only when it can be shared. This fall will mark 22 years of marriage, and if, by God's grace there are 22 more I would not complain.

I'm only sad for St. Augustine because if he had known what I have known the world may have been very different.